


[de]termination

by cassbuttandsquirrel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Dean's POV, Episode: s15e18 Despair - Castiel's Confession Scene, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e17 Unity, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, bridge fic between the end of ep 17 to the end of ep 18
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-25
Updated: 2020-11-25
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27717344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassbuttandsquirrel/pseuds/cassbuttandsquirrel
Summary: So Dean had a plan to make a plan. As soon as this was over (the amount of times he's said to himself are innumerable, but this time - believe him - he means it) he was going to lay all his shit bare for Cas and ask him to stay. He was going to carve out the ugliest parts of himself for Cas to see and then line his heart up right next to all that crap.But now - Now, things were going to shit, and quicker than usual. Death has her grip on his heart and they’re backed into a corner, him and Cas. It’s their own fucking fault because, of course, the best warded room is the one with only one entrance. Which is all fine and dandy until that means only oneexit.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 25





	[de]termination

**Author's Note:**

> Hi friend!!  
> This is another angsty ficlet focussing on Dean leading up to, during, and after Castiel's confession.  
> Couple things of note:  
> 1\. Although this (Nov 25) is the infamous day wherein Deancas was became canon (fully & requited) in Spanish, I did not incorporate Dean's verbal reciprocation in this fic. But Rest Assured, it is requited, even in this fic.  
> 2\. This fic takes a drastic shift in tone - when I began I had plans to make it a bit more light-hearted but by the end I was waist-deep in angst and I gave up. That being said, I still kept the tone at the beginning as I feel that it still stays true to my interpretation/portrayal of Dean.
> 
> That being said - ENJOY!!  
> happy requited destiel day <3  
> (I cried while writing this, so I'm very sorry if it makes you sad too -- I'm not a very good person.)

_**ter·mi·na·tion** (n.) _ _  
the action of bringing something or coming to an end._

_**de·ter·mi·na·tion** (n.) __  
1\. firmness of purpose; resoluteness._ _  
2\. the controlling or deciding of something's nature or outcome._

* * *

Dean had a plan.

Well, not really - he had a plan to have a plan. And when you live a life like the Winchesters that's as close to a plan as you ever get. Bouncing from city to city with a couple of apocalypses shuffled in doesn't give for much breathing room. 

But Dean had a plan- _had_ being the operative word. It existed for a grand total of 5 hours - from Chuck blowing the door to kindling until this moment, standing across from Cas with Death at their heels. 

Seconds after Dean had pointed a gun at his baby brother (and it's a testament to Sammy's sainthood that he found it within himself to forgive him) Chuck had said something incredible.

As much as Dean hates to say it, as much as he is terrified to believe it; Cas was right. _They_ were real. Whatever it was between them- Real. 

Cas himself was real- with all his earnest smiles, terrible taste in cars and and inability to take a goddamn compliment. With all his pride and self-loathing and downright annoying hero complex. With all his shitty emoji texts that Dean complained about incessantly. With his unfathomable knowledge of the universe that he carries and that never shakes off when his shoulder bumps Dean's in the supermarket juice aisle. 

"You stayed," Chuck says the words like they aren't the salvation Dean had long given up praying for. He sounds disappointed, disgusted even, like he's fucking sick of the fact that Cas won't do what he's told. Like Cas is a some thrill-seeking toddler who won't stop sticking their fingers in the electrical outlet. 

And maybe Dean is bad for him. For a moment, his memory takes him to a ramshackle cabin filled with lightning and condemnation - he's the cause of all this, this fall from grace, and he knows it.

But even then, these two words mean that Cas chose this. It wasn't fate pulling them together. It wasn't Chuck catching Cas by his collar and dragging him back to them against his will. He had the whole cosmos before him, but Cas didn't want to be anywhere else. 

Two words mean absolutely nothing to Chuck now- he's just another 10-cent writer with a publisher deadline, and he's desperate to get to the end. Maybe he does know- and this revelation is just another ploy to throw Dean off his game. He's ashamed to say that it works. 

So Dean had a plan to make a plan. As soon as this was over (the amount of times he's said to himself are innumerable, but this time - believe him - he means it) he was going to lay all his shit bare for Cas and ask him to stay. He was going to carve out the ugliest parts of himself for Cas to see and then line his heart up right next to all that crap.

But now - Now, things were going to shit, and quicker than usual. Death has her grip on his heart and they’re backed into a corner, him and Cas. It’s their own fucking fault because, of course, the best warded room is the one with only one entrance. Which is all fine and dandy until that means only one exit. Somewhere in their stumbling through the hallways, Cas zapped them a few paces ahead of Billie, but judging by the angel’s heavy breathing and increasingly unsteady pace, that’s no longer an option. As soon as the door slams behind them, Cas is leaning him gently against the storage shelves and Dean gulps down air as pain in his chest disappears. _There’s got to be a way out of this_ , is the only thing on Dean’s mind as soon as the adrenaline stops whiting out his thoughts. He barely registers Cas fumbling in his pockets but he definitely recognises the sigil he’s drawing on the door, dark red and dripping, when he turns around. Clearly, there would be no flying out of here. Dean’s not sure if that’s permanent or he needs some time to recharge his wings, but he shoves that to the back of his brain.

 _There’s got to be a way out of this_.

Cas is leading him to the middle of the room and they can hear Billie through the door. 

He’s saying something about the Empty, about a deal, but he’s also looking at Dean in a way that makes him want to curl up and die so he’s only half listening. It’s stupid for Cas to be saying all this shit anyways, because if he could just _shut up_ for a second Dean could come up with a plan--

He’s saying something else now. Something about one moment of true happiness and he won’t stop _looking_ at Dean. There’s a taste in the air Dean hates, and he thinks that’s the reason his throat is sticking. Cas keeps on talking and it barely registers over the buzzing in Dean’s ears and the pounding of his pulse. There’s something mesmerizing about watching your greatest fear unfold before, and Cas is doing it so sweetly that he can’t tear his eyes away. Something awful is happening and if they can make this into an argument, maybe Cas’ll stop being so… complacent, resigned. So goddamn _content_ , like he doesn’t have to worry about how they’re getting out of here. 

“What the hell are you talking about, Cas.” The words don’t come out as harsh as he was hoping, all worn and trembling on the edges like the old photograph he has of Mom, and Cas doesn’t take the bait. 

He can’t remember a damn thing that comes out of Cas’s mouth; there’s too much noise, Billie pounding at the door, at his heart, at his head. _Goddamnit Cas, not like this_. He knows, he knows what’s happening but there’s no chance in hell he’s accepting it. This isn’t the way Cas is supposed to-

Billie slams on the door again, and Dean can see the sigil faltering over Cas’ shoulder. _There has got to be a way out of this_. He feels like he’s burning and frozen at the same time. _Maybe there isn’t_.

“...most caring-” Dean looks back up to face his friend, his saviour, “-man on Earth. You are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know.” 

This is it. This is all that’s left for them, he realises, with a moment of still clarity. And he’ll be damned if he lets Cas go without being heard. And if he’s the first to go, then, hell, he’ll go out listening. 

“You know, ever since we met and ever since I pulled you out of Hell, knowing you has changed me.”

There’s a tear on Cas’ cheek but all Dean can think about is how gently he’s saying all of this. As if whatever fucked up _changes_ Dean’s managed to force upon him were anything more than death, humanity, hunger and frailty. But he lets Cas speak his mind, because some sad, aching, lonely part of him wants to hear Cas’ voice forever. 

“Because you cared, I cared. I cared about you. I cared about Sam. I cared about Jack. I cared about the whole world because of you.”

Dean feels himself shutting down, putting distance between them, and he hates himself for it. Even in this, their final moments, he can’t help but be a goddamn coward. 

“You changed me, Dean.”

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?” He hopes Cas hears the challenge in this question, the underlying rage of _not like this you bastard_. 

_Please, God, not like this_. 

“Because it is.”

The shrieking is back, and the nausea and the pain in his chest, and Dean would beg for death if he could frame a coherent thought. If Cas could be free. 

His heart is racing, every vein and artery crying what Dean can’t bring himself to say. _Don’t say it. Don’t you fucking say it, Cas_. 

“I love you.” 

The rage Dean feels is instantaneous, vicious; a near-feral _how DARE you_ , before it’s gone just as quickly. It leaves behind a yawning, terrible hopelessness and there’s a protest on his lips before he can stop the sorrow from spilling over. 

There’s a noise behind him and he knows from Cas’ face it’s the Empty. He turns to look anyway because it gives him a moment, just a moment. A moment to see how much time they have, a moment to hold himself together, a moment to find the strength to scream and tear and rip his way out of here, to twist his fists into that trench coat and drag them both to safety. To tell destiny to screw itself, to tell the goddamn cosmic consequences to get fucked and that they’ll make it up as they go. 

But there’s nothing there. Nothing to hold onto, nothing to grip with his hands or tear into with his teeth. Just a nauseating wave of dark and a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Cas says goodbye. 

Cas says goodbye and Dean will _never_ forgive him. 

It’s only later, when his throat is wrecked from sobbing and bile and when a headache has lodged itself firmly behind his eyes and he’s declined enough calls from Sammy that he’s given up ringing, does Dean remember his plan. His stomach lurches, and he heaves, dry and empty, hanging his head between his legs uselessly. 

The goddamn _hope_ of it all hurts the worst. As if there could ever be an _after_ with Cas. As if there was any _after_ for any of them. This was it, the End of Days, and they’ll all die either fighting or failing. 

And by god - scratch that - by all that is left, by all that has been given to them, he’ll give it his best shot. For everyone they’ve lost and for everyone else.

For Eileen, for Jack, for Sammy.

And most of all, for Cas. 

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a kudos or comment if you enjoyed this fic!! Despite the tears, I really enjoyed writing it! 
> 
> I'm heading back to [ Twitter ](https://twitter.com/librarian_gamer?s=07) to find out if Dean really says "I'm yours" to Cas after his confession 🏃🏻


End file.
